A year on
by JasperK
Summary: Now living in Kasted City as Eriks, Vash distracts himself from memories by performing the role he slipped into as Lina's protector.


Ericks sat at the low veranda that fronted the house where he stayed with Lina and her grandmother. He put his elbows on his knees and slouched there, staring mindlessly at the dusty street, aware the sun was baking on his back. He shrugged his shoulders as the miserable part of him that still acknowledged that he was Vash the Stampede, surfaced along with uncomfortable memories. He was quite skilled at dodging memories; one of the best methods he had discovered was to smile until his body naturally reacted to the gesture. He could feel the faint pleasure flow down his throat and cover his body. Somehow it bypassed his brain, his mind still felt cold and sad, but the smile had worked, he now felt like smiling.

He smiled at the street and the people walking to and fro. He smiled as Lina slipped out of the window, not realizing he was there, and sneaked around the back of the house to avoid chores. He smiled, and the memories he had chased away sneaked back. He stretched and got to his feet. A few months back he had asked for the day off today, not intending to enter it sober. However, a week ago, Lina had planned a party for that evening and her grandmother had told him in an expectant hopeful voice that somehow always manage to have him agreeing to her whims, that she was sure he would enjoy it. It was the only reason he was not already in the saloon getting plastered with the heavy drinkers of the city, that hope she seemed to have in him. Walking would be a better way to avoid memories, walking and distraction.

Finding a distraction was not hard; trouble always followed an escapade begun by sneaking out of the window. He walked slowly along in the sun; mentally going through the various boltholes that Lina frequented when out, he had a feeling about one. He smiled, wryly this time, at how she reminded him of himself at times, hopelessly incapable of staying out of trouble. She did not intentionally look for it, but it found her. Unlike him, she did not have the added terror in the awareness that worse trouble dogged her footsteps. He gritted his teeth and shuddered as the one memory he had been hoping to avoid on this day flashed across his mind, he gulped a breath and stared up at the blue skies. Knives was out there. He clenched his fist to regain control and his hand went to where his gun -his fingers closed on nothing- used to be.

Twitchily he shoved his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders and headed out of the city. He was losing to the memories, as he feared he might. He slowed as he passed a Saloon near the outskirts, as the easier solution presented itself. A gunshot sounded beyond the borders of the city, people in the street glanced along it, but seeing nothing, they went about their business. However, it decided matters for him; he needed to find Lina, and perversely hoped she would be in the thick of it this time. He craved a good distraction. On consideration, perhaps a bottle for company would not be a bad idea.

He and his bottle had made it to the outskirts of town, both with liquid sloshing around the inside. He was rather impressed with himself; he had not downed it all in successive large slugs. He had managed one large gulp and a fit of coughing which had cautioned him off the idea.

It was as he stepped beyond Kasted City's poorly defined border that he felt suddenly vulnerable. He glowered at the drink, and realized that it was not the alcohol taking advantage of a bad day. It was the situation. He had his back to the city, as he had left many settlements before, but in most situations, he had had the comfortable weight in his holster and the coolness of the coat. Ah, why had he thought about the coat? He tried to shove the thought away, but it snapped back. As exposed as he was feeling, he declined the ease of the road straight out of the city and took the track that turned to the left among the boulders. He clenched his fist in his pocket when it twitched to go after the gun no longer there. The track wondered down into a shallow rock strewn valley that bordered the village. He took another swig from the bottle. He really missed that coat, it was comfortable, fitted him better than most clothing, or perhaps that was just the comfort of use and wear. It kept him cool when it was hot and warm when it was cool. It had pockets with extra ammunition and a few sentimental items he had gathered on his travels. It also drew the eye, especially those of the ladies, he smiled lost in the thought. Gah. He missed his coat.

A bullet zipped passed his head, trimming hairs as it buzzed past his ear. He staggered to the left, waving his bottle and his free hand in the air, panicked.

"Whaaa?" He bleated in bleary terror, as four barrels tracked his movements across the dusty path to the rocky slope.

He stumbled, tripping over his own boot, curled around the bottle to protect the precious liquid and tumbled down the slope into the midst of a group of six men. He landed on something that went 'oof, ge off yer ibbio.' Ah, he had found Lina, his smile broadened in happiness. He had also found his distraction.

"Who the hell are you?" A gruff voice demanded.

He set the bottle upright with the reverence it deserved then glanced upwards. Four armed men and two, unusually, without revolvers. None of them looked like highway robbers, or the usual kind of thugs he had encountered in the area. In fact, now that he sat up off Lina, he found her unharmed and glaring at him.

"Ericks, get lost!" She shoved him, and then wrinkled her nose. "You're drunk!"

"Not sho." He presented her with the evidence remaining in the bottle.

"Miss, do you want us to get rid of him for you?" One of the men asked ominously.

"No." She sighed and pointed to a large boulder near the road. "Eriks, wait for me on the rock there."

"Wha?"

She got to her feet and tried to drag him to his. He awkwardly obliged, hamming up the drunken act to cover the embarrassment at the creeping realization that he had interrupted a legitimate business transaction. But why had they shot at him? He stared blearily past Lina and realized that his personal bad luck had just intervened. He had walked directly into the path of a target.

"Go on." Lina shoved him in the general direction and he ambled off more rapidly than he had arrived. How awkward.

He sat in the sun and sipped more delicately at the bottle as he waited. They shot at the target with each revolver while Lina looking on fussily, and eventually she refused each one. This caused a bit of an argument, but with glances in his direction, it died out rather quickly. He smiled, pleased at her judgment, none of the guns they had were worth her hard earned money, and what did Lina want a gun for?

They brokered the deal quite rapidly and Lina came across to him as the men gathered up their packs and headed back onto the road. She scrambled up onto the rock and scowled at him.

"Sorry." He laughed, rubbing his neck with his free hand.

She pulled something out of her pocket, wrapped in a rather grubby but unused handkerchief. She thrust it under his nose and he squinted down at it. He lowered his hand and took it. Unwrapping it, he discovered it was a bundle of double dollars, where had she found all this money?

"I was going to get you a gun, but they only had those crappy revolvers." She glared at him, and he realized he was sitting with his mouth open. She thought he needed a gun? How bad had his acting been? He had tried very hard to live the life of a pacifist as best he knew how.

She sat down beside him on the rock and hugged her knees. Her eyes tracked the six men as they walked along the dust road away from the city.

"You always go for your hip when you get tense." She explained. "And the look on your face when you don't find a gun it there."

Had he been so transparent? He tensed and she elbowed him in the ribs, he let out a gasp of air.

"I won't say anything to grandma, sheesh, what do you take me for?" She eyed him now, and. "It's your present; you've been with us for a year, so that's like your birthday."

He automatically hauled up a smile on his face and turned to look up at the sky so she would not see his expression. He had not thought of his birthday since, since before… He shut down all thoughts and concentrated very hard, she was watching the traders walk away and talking.

"So I thought well, you could get your own, if you know what you like. There is a gunsmith in the next town; we could go up there if you wanted one to order."

He knew how much money she had given him, and it was nowhere enough for what he wanted. He wanted to buy peace, not guns, though inevitably both were bought by blood.

She distracted him by filching his bottle and taking a swig before he could snatch it away.

"That was mine!" He whined as she coughed and laughed. She slid down the rock, leaping elegantly onto the ground.

"I've gotta go and cook for tonight. I'll kick your arse if I have to drag you from the saloon later!"

He gave her his best injured expression and she only laughed harder and ran back the way he had come.

He sat on the rock and hugged his knees, sloshing what was left of the alcohol around the bottom of the bottle. A year. It had been a year since Augusta, and every night since then had presented him with the damning evidence of his involvement. Alone now, and without anyone near, he allowed his face to crumple and the sobs to come. He cried for himself, the wretchedness of his destiny and mostly... his jaw locked and his chest heaved with silent painful sobs, for his brother, his foolish, deadly brother.


End file.
